


The Snow Queen

by notthehighkingedmund



Category: The Night Circus - Erin Morgenstern
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-26 23:19:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7594342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notthehighkingedmund/pseuds/notthehighkingedmund
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ever wondered how the living statues were able to maintain such stillness?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Snow Queen

She knows patience. That is why they called her in - why they told her she's perfect. That she's just what they were looking for.  
He asked if she knew others like her. She nodded. A quiet 'yes' that seemed to echo about the room, yet they all swore she'd whispered. She promised to speak to these people and invite them to a dinner - tell them of the opportunity they were being given.  
Convince them to join the circus.

It was easy, getting the others to say yes. They were a small group - but they all knew one another. Being that their skill was rare, they tended to search for others like them - to band together and create beautiful things.  
Chandresh was over the moon that she'd gotten so many people to join.  
The sisters simply smiled and nodded at her - their own silent thank you for her participation.

___________________________________

It takes a lot of control to be still, but she had learnt the skill many years ago as a girl. To her, it no longer felt like her muscles were on fire - begging her to move, pleading with her to just collapse in a heap and be done with it.  
No. Now it felt natural. As if she were moving through water.  
To her, moving at a fast pace felt wrong now she was grown. She had become too used to the stillness - like a beautiful pond that grew disturbed by movement.  
The only hints that she was moving were the occasional flecks of snow that would fall once her head had shifted just enough to the side to make it flutter to the ground - capturing her audience's attention once more.

It amused her, how she had developed the stillness in order to remain hidden, and yet here she was - standing in full view of hundreds of circus goers - and all eyes were on her.  
What was once a method of escape, was now a way to be recognised and appreciated. Most importantly, it was a source of income, and an introduction to a family - no matter how large or strange the family seemed to be.  
It was the way she found herself to be home.

Nothing could make her move before she chose to, and nothing could speed up her movements. Not a person who tried to distract her with chatter, nor the death of a friend.  
Not even the shouts and screams - the glass shattering, or the doors slamming. Not the pounding of a fist against a locked door that told her there was a drunken man, waiting for her to provoke him into a thunderous rage...  
No. Even that could not make her move. For had she moved, she would have made her presence known.

And now - should she move too fast, she would break an illusion, and make her humanity known.  
Then they would see her - and not the woman bedecked in snow and feathers.  
They would see a woman who was made from fear, and would beg to know her name.

Not even the sisters knew her name.

So she waited, and stayed still. Until it seemed as if she'd never move, and then a fraction of her appearance would change - so small and so slow that they would stay and watch, to be sure that she really had moved.

Oh yes, she knows patience.  
Do you?


End file.
